Why Do I Keep Counting?
by kidofthefrozenfrontrange
Summary: Ron has some concerns after a certain event takes place.


**Apparently I can only write when I should be doing other, more productive things like studying or shoveling us out of the snow that just dropped down on us...in the middle of spring break...awesome.**

**Anyway, this is sort of a missing moment in DH right after Ron and Hermione's first kiss. **

**I own nothing. Enjoy.**

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Panic was settling in Ron's stomach. As he raced to pick up the fallen fangs, trying his hardest not to look over at the girl who had just kissed him, he felt his cheeks flush with the blood that was clearly intended to supply his brain before it gave out in its attempt process the million thoughts racing at speeds uncommon even to sound and light. All of this because Hermione Granger had just kissed him.

Those thoughts varied in ways that made him question his sanity. Those thoughts were doing back flips each time he replayed it as many times as one could in the span of thirty seconds. They worried over whether or not he was a good kisser, if his lips were soft enough or chapped and rough or if maybe they should have waited until Harry was at least out of the room. Mostly, they worried over one little detail.

She kissed him.

_She_ kissed_ him. _Besides the overwhelming odds he himself had placed on such an event ever transpiring without the aid of some sort of dare, potion, or devious scheming on his part, there was a sort of propriety to a kiss such as this that was abandoned haphazardly. It was just not done this way, there were steps to take, careful planning...less house elf involvement. Simply put, he was the boy, he should have kissed her.

It was a silly thing to worry about, he knew. Part of his brain was threatening the other part quite viciously for even considering this to be a problem, reminding him he should just be lucky enough to have her kiss him at all. He knew Hermione would also, most likely, be reminding him of that same fact, as well as reminding him of the many times he probably could have done it first if he hadn't been a thick git for so many years. This would, of course, have to be drilled into his head as hex upon hex is thrust upon him-war or no war raging in the meantime- for even having such a sexist and archaic idea in his mind (assuming he was actually stupid enough to say this aloud to Hermione).

Nonetheless, there was a part of him irked that he wasn't able to kiss her first. Upset that he didn't get a chance to confess his feelings in an unbelievably romantic manner by candlelight, surrounded by books or some other such nonsense that would make her happy and him happy by extension. Embarrassed that years from now, when he told the story to their kids he would have to admit this to his son, who would immediately take the mickey for his cowardice. He could battle in a war, but not kiss the girl he's fancied for years?

Then, suddenly, it all disappeared. Reaching for the last fang on the floor, their hands brushed ever so slightly and instinctively they shot to their own sides again, leaving the fang between them. Ron ventured a look at Hermione and noticed the same pink tinge to her cheeks, and the same uncertain gaze trying to find any place to land on but him.

She still didn't know, he realized. She made the first move, practically threw herself at him, but he hadn't said anything or done anything that could possibly reassure her that he felt the same way aside from kissing back. The more he thought about it, the more he feared it wasn't enough. It all suddenly didn't matter. He didn't care if he didn't get a chance to set the right mood or what his children would think if he didn't do this perfectly. All that mattered was that she knew exactly how he felt about her, that he was crazy about her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, be it the next five minutes or five hundred years. All that mattered was Hermione being absolutely certain that their first kiss would not be their last.

He picked up the fang lying between them and gave her a quick smile she nervously returned. As they rose he took a quick look around, making sure they were the only ones around. He knew what he had to do next, he knew there was only one way to make sure she knew he felt the same way.

"Hermione?"

"Ron, wha-"

He made damn sure she didn't get the second kiss too.

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**Well there you have it. I'm off to go study the magnificently ridiculous names given to our muscles. Let me know how I did-good or bad- and review please (I'm still kind of new and it's been a while).**


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